


Nothing's Gonna Make This Right Again

by Alcoholic_kangaroo



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Blackmail, Guilt, M/M, pedophile!David
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 17:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_kangaroo
Summary: So basically Max finds out David is a pedophile and decides to blackmail him.





	Nothing's Gonna Make This Right Again

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what the fuck this is. Just read it. I'll edit it later I need to go to sleep.

Max doesn't know what he expected to find in David's diary exactly. Something about David and Gwen's diabolical scheme to fund their cruise to Alaska by mass producing lanyards, maybe. Or maybe something about David's love for squishing apple sauce between his toes every night before bed. Something disturbing, possibly mildly illegal, but nothing outright dangerous or harmful.

What he didn’t expect to find was a heartwrenching confession of a man being torn apart by guilt.

He doesn't know why he goes back for the diary after defeating Daniel. If he were a nicer kid he'd probably just leave it alone, check to make sure David was okay after his ordeal, and move on with his life. But he isn't a nicer kid and the physical diary of a grown man with the heart of a kindergartener is too much to overlook. You can't just continue with life as if you had never seen such a thing and Max is sure there had to be something juicier than Gwen's stolen pen in that notebook.

He takes the diary back to his tent, stashes it under his pillow, and returns from his “bathroom break” with David none-the-wiser. If David does notice it missing that evening he probably will suspect Max of stealing it but whatever, by then Max would have had time to page through it.

After dinner, Max takes the diary and a flashlight and disappears up into the attic. If Neil wrote in his diary up there, then why shouldn’t Max read somebody else’s in that spot? It reduces the likelihood of David checking in on him and spotting the diary in his hands.

Max drinks a box of grape juice as he flips through the pages, looking for anything interesting. As expected many of the entries are mundane. Details of his everyday life outside of camp sound even more boring, often skipping a week or more at a time as he apparently has little to talk about when he's not being a counselor.  _ I ran into a wild turkey on accident and cried for three hours. There was a cat hiding under the hood of my car this morning but luckily I heard it mewing before I turned on the engine. I watched the boy next door changing through his window this morning. _

Wait, what?

That’s the first entry that really catches Max’s eye. It’s dated four years ago, back before David started working at the camp, when he was still a struggling college kid off for summer vacation. And Max isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse, knowing that David was aware of this all before purposely choosing to work with children.

_ I didn’t mean to catch him. I was just watching a squirrel climb the tree between our houses and suddenly I noticed the movement out of the corner of my eye. And there he was, in just his underwear, combing his hair. What kind of boy combs his hair before putting his shirt on anyway, it’ll just get messy again. I hate to admit it but I took a couple pictures on my phone and ended up jerking off to them later. I need to get out of this house, the temptation to turn into a peeping tom is too strong when there’s a boy that cute next door. _

It wasn’t as if Max had never heard of pedophiles. He had. A lot. His parents and his nanny and his grandmother and his teacher and that cop that came to talk to his class at school always made a big deal of them. His father used to tell him to watch out for guys in vans trying to lure him in because they’d rape him and then slit his throat. His nanny told him to watch out for dirty old men in trenchcoats with greasy beards because they would try to stick something up his butt. The cop told them that anybody could be a pedophile and that if anybody tried to touch them it would probably be a relative or somebody else they already knew.

David isn’t dirty and old and as far as Max is aware of he doesn’t own a van. So only the cop was right there.

At first, Max is confused about how he should feel. Should he be scared? What if David did try to rape and kill Max or one of the other kids? His first thought went to Nikki and how trusting and vulnerable she was.

But as he continues to read, three things become apparent.

One, David would never touch Nikki because his perverse fantasies only swing towards boys.

Two, David seems dedicated to not actually touching any children which is honestly very surprising. Max had never considered the idea that a man could be turned on by kids and not act on it. But this is David and, to be honest, Max can't imagine David hurting anybody, let alone killing somebody.

And three, David is head over heels in love with Harrison. Yes, Harrison, as in the nerdy kid with the stupid hat and the weird accent.

Why Harrison? Max doesn’t get it. Harrison is...he’s a dork, okay? There’s no other way to describe him.

Well, no, scratch that. David seems to have found plenty of ways to describe him.

_ As cute as a puppy on its back begging for tummy rubs. Shining with the inner light of a billion burning stars. More precious than an entire boxful of mewling kittens. As beautiful as the dawn on the first morning back at camp. Soft and sweet like the world’s cutest pygmy goat. _

"Jesus Christ, David," Max mutters to himself, feeling vaguely nauseous. And not because of the fact that David apparently wants to bone Harrison. Who the hell describes other human beings this way? He's so fucking wishy-washy, Max feels like he might need a towel just to get the suds off him.

Harrison has been coming to the camp for three years. The same length of time as Max, which he had never realized. A year old than Max, he had always assumed Harrison had been attending a couple years longer than himself. This means they were both under David's first set of campers as well.

Should he feel insulted? There are plenty of mentions of himself in David’s diary but his name only shows up in relation to events or incidents or once or twice when David is musing about how he feels like such a failure as a counselor. Max would almost feel guilty if two pages later there hadn’t been a long, detailed sexual fantasy over his fellow camper spelled out on three pages of paper. 

Max looks down at his own body, wondering what’s wrong with him. He’s cute, isn’t he? Why isn’t he worth jerking off to?

Then when he thinks about it, Max stops feeling so annoyed because he really doesn't want David jerking off to him. David writes out all these weird-ass fantasies about wanting to suck Harrison's cock or turn him around and lick his "virgin opening" and yeah. That's pretty disturbing. Max doesn't want David to be thinking about his asshole.

As the pages cover months then years the entries go from guilty masturbation material to something less visceral. In December, David writes longing about wanting to see Harrison in his winter pajamas. In February, he confesses about nightmares he's been having that Harrison doesn't return to camp that summer. In May, he writes about receiving Harrison's application for the summer and admits that he had smelled the paper, hoping for a trace of Harrison's scent caught in the envelope.

Max slides the diary behind his pillow that night before crawling onto his cot. Neil catches him carrying the book and arches an eyebrow at him, waiting for Max to explain. When he doesn't offer up any information Neil asks him what it was, where he got it from, and why he would be carrying around a book.

“None of your business, Neil,” Max says jovially. He doesn’t want to share anything he learned about with Neil but he’s in a good mood.

The last thing he thinks about being falling asleep that night is to wonder whether or not David had noticed the missing journal.

He discovers the answer almost immediately the next morning. And the answer is a definite yet.

David is a wreck. He looks like he hasn't slept but despite the bags under his eyes are wide open, hyper-alert, darting around like a scared squirrel. Max walks over to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup and David is already there, hands shaking so hard that it sloshes out over the rim and lands on the counselor's hand. David jumps back, inhaling sharply as the drink burns his skin.

“Hard night, David?” Max mocks, picking up one of the coffee cups.

“What? Oh, uh, hi Max. Good morning.”

Max pushes past David, letting his hip bump against the counselor’s crotch as he passes by him. This is fun. Finding a new way to make his life difficult.

But David really is a mess. He's no fun to mess with if he's having an outright anxiety attack, which Max is pretty sure he's two minutes from entering. He scraps his original plan to leave the counselor hanging for a while and asks instead, in his sweetest, cutest little boy voice, "Gee, David, I had a really bad nightmare last night and could really use somebody to talk to about it. Can I have a counseling session with you this morning?"

"A, a counseling session?" the man stammers. "Wouldn't you feel more comfortable with Gwen for-"

“It wasn’t a dream I’d feel comfortable discussing with a girl,” Max lies. He glances at David’s face and it’s turning red. Good, let David assume that Max was having that sort of dream. Alright, maybe Max is still feeling slightly offended by the absence of sexual attention to himself. He’s a cute kid, damn i.

“I guess, if you really-”

“Great, right after breakfast, I’ll meet you in your cabin.”

“Max-”

Max turns and walks away, leaving David sputtering and on the brink of hyperventilating.

It's a lie though, somewhat. Max doesn't go immediately to the counselor's cabin. First, he stops by his tent, rips a few pieces of paper from it, and then hides the rest of the diary in a hole beneath a rock where nobody would look to find it. He doesn't trust David, fully, not to do something if Max doesn't have something to hold against him. He couldn't see David actually killing him but there are other things he could do. Ways he could turn this all around and put it back on Max's head if Max didn't have physical proof. David is a weakling but he could still overpower him if he wanted to get the journal out of his hands.

He still makes it back to the cabin before David does. Gwen is gone, probably gathering the other campers up for some activity, and Max takes a moment to walk around, inspecting the things on her desk. If he could find some prime blackmail material for her too then his life at the camp would become a vacation away from his summer vacation.

But nothing presents itself (her bad fanfiction is disturbing but nothing more incriminating than what everyone already knows) so Max walks back over to David's side of the cabin and sits on the edge of the bed to wait. He pulls the handful of papers from his hoodie pockets and looks over them, preparing himself. He feels queasy with nerves but he knows what he needs to do here. He can't show weakness.

By the time David makes it into the cabin, he's already grown bored enough to pick up the book beside David's bed and start turning through the pages. It's just some stupid boy scout book on identifying birds. How predictable. Max chuckles immaturely at the word cock as it's repeated over and over in one section.

He still has time to set the book aside and organize the papers in his hand. David’s footsteps outside are heavy. Max doesn’t look up when he hears the door open.

“Oh, Max, you’re here, I was looking for you.”

“I know where your cabin is, David, I’m not an idiot.”

Max finally turns his head to meet David’s eyes. They’re still wide and now his hair looks mussed, as if he had been running his fingers through it. David is the one who breaks the stare.

“Oh, well, um,” David looks around for a moment then walks over to his desk, grabbing his chair from behind it. He turns it around, facing Max on the bed.

“What’s wrong, David, you don’t want to sit on the bed next to me? You don’t want to be in bed with a little boy? I thought you were into that.”

“W, what?”

Smirking, Max raises the papers between his hands and starts reading aloud.

“This morning I took the campers hiking at dawn. They were all half asleep when we started and Harrison hadn’t even managed to tuck his shirt in like usual. Half of it was tucked in but the other half was hanging loose and I caught sight of a sliver of his stomach. I don’t know why it affected me that much, I see him shirtless all the time when we go swimming, but something about it was so arousing. On top of that, I think he had morning wood. It’s hard to tell sometimes with boys that young but he always wears such tight pants and there was definitely more of a bulge there than usual. I left Gwen alone with the kids for lunch to go ‘bird watching.’ I ended up actually finding a few birds because I was so hard that I came almost immediately and had to kill some time to avoid suspicion.”

Max lowers the sheets of paper and looks up at David, smiling a less than friendly smile at the older man. David’s face has gone absolutely white.

“What? No opinion on this beautiful piece of literature? Do you want me to read you more?”

“No!” David blurts out. “I, Max, give me those.”

“These?” Max asks, innocently. He holds out the papers for David and the counselor instantly snatches them from Max’s grip, hugging them to his chest. “Take them. I have some way better parts hidden away. You really are a disgusting piece of shit, you sick fuck.”

“You don’t understand,” David says, his voice going high with panic, he’s almost shouting. Tears are already welling in his eyes. “It’s, it’s a book I’m writing.”

“You’re writing a book, about a camp counselor, who is in love with an eleven-year-old boy?” Max deadpans, giving David a disbelieving look. “With long detailed descriptions about penis size estimates and anal sex fantasies? How stupid do you think I am?”

David wipes at his face. The tears seem to just be rolling freely down his cheeks with no control on David’s part.

“You have to understand, I, I would never-”

“Again, how stupid do you think I am?” Max slides off the bed and steps closer to David. He expects the man to take a few steps back but surprises him by freezing instead, as if unable to move. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, shaking. Max stares straight up at him. “You’re a fucking pussy, David. You would never have the balls to try anything with an adult, let alone a child. Don’t you think I would have gone to Gwen already if I thought you were actually diddling Harrison behind the toolshed?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Jesus Christ, of course you don’t,” Max mutters, bringing his hand up to cover one eye. He drops it again. “I’m blackmailing you, David. Black. Mailing. You have to do what I tell you or I’m going to tell everybody that a disgusting pedophile is running a camp full of innocent, impressionable children.”

“You can’t,” David protests. He reaches for Max, the papers falling around his feet. Max inhales, surprised. David’s hands are crushingly heavy on his shoulders. “Max, this job is my life. You can’t get me fired.”

“You, you don’t get the point of blackmail here, do you?” Max stutters. He winces at the way David’s nails are digging into his shirt, glad to have the cushion of hoodie and t-shirt between his skin and those nails. He shrugs, moving his head to one side, trying to dislodge David’s grip. “If I tell anybody then I don’t get to control you, do I?”

David seems to suddenly come to his senses. He releases Max, taking a few quick steps backward. His hands grab at each other in front him, ringing themselves.

“I’m sorry, I, I didn’t mean- I wouldn’t- I swear I never thought about you like that, Max. Please believe me.”

“I know, I know,” Max brushes off the apology. His arms throb as he rubs at his left shoulder with his right hand. “But seriously, David, what the fuck? Am I not cute enough? Not your type? Do you not like brown kids, is that it? Are you racist?”

“Wait, you, what? You want me to be attracted to you?”

"No!" Max cries out, waving his right hand frantically in the air as if to banish the thought. "No, God no. I just, I want to know what's special about Harrison that I'm lacking?"

“I’m not really comfortable discussing that with you, Max,” David apologizes. Then he glances around the room as if just remembering they were alone in the cabin. “I shouldn’t even be alone in here with you. Just tell me what you want and get out of here.”

"Hmm," Max considers. He spots one of Gwen's notebooks lying on her desk, open towards a page somewhere in the middle. "How about I write you down a list instead?"

 

“Is that an iPad?”

“Hmm?” Max asks, not looking up. He’s lying on his stomach on his cot, playing some strategy battle game. “Oh, uh, no. It’s a Galaxy tablet.”

He can practically hear the saliva building up in Neil's mouth at the sight of an electronic more advanced than a graphing calculator. Maybe he should have gone with the iPad after all. Damn David's pathetic bank account.

“Where did you get a tablet? How did you figure out the camp’s Wifi?”

“David,” Max answers, shrugging nonchalantly. As if this was a “no big deal” situation. Which he knew it was, of course, and had been planning out this interaction all day.

See, the thing is, Max doesn't have a tent all to himself. And while he could easily have David assign him his own tent that would seem suspicious. So Max had come to the conclusion that the only way to keep everything a secret is to let one more person in on it.

He strings Neil along for another minute, evading his questions until he finally spills.

“I’m blackmailing David.” He adds a few archers behind the catapult and then drags his finger across the screen, scrolling to the other side of the city limits.

"Really?" Neil asks interest peaked. Max looks up at him, smirking a Cheshire Cat smile. Neil squints at Max, suspiciously. "What information could you have that possibly would be worth that much?"

“I guess David wants to have sex with Harrison,” Max replies, reaching up to scratch at his nose. He turns back to his game. “He’s one of those pedophile guys.”

“What?” Neil exclaims, but it doesn’t sound like a question. His voice is hilariously high-pitched and breaks in the middle of the word. “David’s a child molester?”  
“No?” Max questioned, uncertainly. “I don’t know, man. I mean, I don’t think so. I think he just jerks off a lot to pictures of Harrison in his swim shorts. It’s kind of weird.”

“Weird? Weird?” Neil squeals. He grabs the tablet out from Max’s hands before Max even realizes he’s going for it. Max tries to grab it back but Neil has always stepped away, tucking the tablet under his arm as he waves the other one frantically in the air. “You’re saying there’s a pedophile working at this camp and you’re just going to keep that secret?”

“Neil, listen,” Max sighs. He turns and slides to the side of the cot, sitting up straight with his legs dangling over the edge. They don’t quite touch the ground. “I’ve got a good thing going here and I planned on sharing it with you. We can do whatever we want as long as we keep this secret. David is wrapped around my little finger.”

"And Harrison is probably impaled on his middle finger as we speak," Neil says, pointing at Max accusingly. "I can't believe you. You'd let some pervert molest Harrison just so you can play Age of Empires on a tablet?"

“Neil, no, wait,” Max grabs at the taller boy’s arm as he heads towards the tent opening, doubtlessly on his way to update Gwen on the situation with her coworker. “Come on Neil, think of it. This is David we’re talking about. David. Can you imagine him hurting a gerbil let alone Harrison?”

Neil shakes his arms, trying shake off Max, but Max keeps his grip on him. 

"You don't know what he's really like, Max, don't you get that?" Neil asks. He turns to look at Max, meeting his eyes. Max loosens his grip but doesn't release him entirely. Neil lowers the volume of this voice, the pitch of it dropping. "He's an adult. He needs to act a certain way around kids but we don't know how he is in private. You've said it before, nobody can be that insufferably happy all the time."

“You know Neil, you’re right,” Max agrees. He lets go of Neil but as expected Neil stays where he is. “David isn’t that happy all the time and I have proof. Just like I have proof that he’s not molesting Harrison. Let me show you.”

The diary is where Max left it and he knows he’ll have to find a different place to hide it now that Neil knows where it is. The plastic bag he buried it in is covered with dirt and moisture but the diary is inside still, safe and dry. Max hands it to Neil and the other boy sits down on his own bed to read it. But he’s a fast reader and skims through the pages much quicker than Max had in his read through.

“Okay,” he agrees, handing the book back over. “But I want my own iPad.”

 

Days turn into weeks and the other campers begin to talk. The fact that Max and Neil's tent is suddenly furnished with comfortable futons, a mini-fridge, and a television set does not go unnoticed. Max lies and claims they're gifts from a rich uncle but the others still demand to know why David and Gwen haven't taken the stuff away from them.

“They don’t know,” he claims, looking towards Neil to back him up. “So don’t say anything or you can’t watch our television or have any of the ice cream in the freezer.”

The threats keep the others quiet and they don’t ask where the ice cream comes from.

No, the issue ends up not being Neil or the other kids but David.

David is far from the perfect blackmailing victim. He’s about as convincing at playing it cool as a pan of boiling oil. Whenever Max is near him he watches him with wide eyes, his posture unnaturally erect, and even Gwen starts to notice something is wrong, pulling David aside during activities to ask him questions. Max is also pretty sure he’s not sleeping most nights because the bags under his eyes keep getting larger and droopier.

He hates to admit it, but he’s starting to feel sorry for the guy.

"David, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks one evening after dinner. There's going to be a campfire that night, after everyone has had time to shower and change, and he wants to talk to David before they all have to reconvene.

Of course, David cannot turn down Max's request. He can't turn down any of them.

"What do you need now, Max?" David asks, tone weary. He sits in his desk chair, keeping a good distance from the boy. There's a self-conscious air about him now that there used to be. He no longer leans down to talk to Max or touches his shoulder or ruffles his hair. It feels very stunted and Max is surprised by how much he misses these simple interactions. There had been something nice about having an adult around who had been willing to show affection towards him. Was that all an act? Just an excuse to touch a cute young boy? Any boy? Even if he wasn't cute enough to make it into David's diary.

“I just wanted to talk to you is all,” Max says. He looks towards David’s bed but it doesn’t feel right to sit on it now. He wonders how many sleepless nights David has spent lying there. He walks across the cabin and sits in Gwen’s chair instead, turning it so they’re facing each other. “You know I’m not going to say anything, right? I wouldn’t actually do something like that to you. I’m not a dick.”

David doesn’t answer. He turns his head down, looking at his hands instead. The fingers of one hand caress the fingers of the other, worrying them like a puppy with a bone. 

“David?” Max asks, frowning. Disturbed by the other man’s silence.

“Sure, Max,” David replies weakly. He looks up and gives him a half-hearted smile.

The anger coursing through Max’s body is sudden and unpredictable. Max slides out of his chair, landing heavily on his feet.

“David, come on,” he insists, marching across the room. “You know me. Don’t you believe me?”

The counselor averts his eyes, turning his head away so he doesn’t have to look at the boy. Max steps closer and grabs at David’s chin, forcing him to look at him. Even like this, with himself standing and David sitting, the counselor is taller than himself and has to look down to meet his gaze.

“David, I mean it,” Max insists again. “I’m not going to tell anybody. I swear I’m not going to just take all this stuff from you then turn around and snitch anyway. We had a deal and I’m going to keep my promise.”

“Right,” David agrees. He sounds less doubtful now but there is an air of sadness to his voice. “As long as I continue to do as you say you’ll keep my secret.”

His secret.

It occurs to Max that he may be the only person in the world that knows about David’s secret.

And that means that the only person that has ever found out about this...thing of his has only used to exploit him for their own gain.

Ah fuck. Max doesn't want to feel guilty. Why did he ever look through that stupid book? He doesn't like to be reminded that he has a conscious. He's supposed to be a little hellion, not a momma's boy.

“David do you maybe, you know, want to talk about it?” Max asks cautiously. “I mean, you know, since I know anyway.”

The last part comes off gruffer than he meant but David seems to take no offense to it. He just shakes his head slowly and tries to avoid the way Max is looking at him.

“Have, have you told anybody else?”

“About what I am?” David asks, just clarifying, but it’s obvious that’s what Max is questioning and he doesn’t wait for an answer. “There, there was a counselor once. In my first year of college. But she told me I was just timid around people my own age and would outgrow it once I got my first girlfriend. I, I didn’t.”

“What about Bonquisha?” Max coaxes. Because it had been so obvious at the time that David had genuine feelings about the woman. Max had mostly skipped the parts about her in the diary, not wanting to get into more mushy stuff, but the later paged had been warped by dry tears.

"You expect me to tell her something like that?" David asks, laughing at himself. "Right. Hey, Bon Bon, I love you and everything but the real reason I can't get it up for you is because you don't have the body of a ten-year-old boy. Yeah, Max, that would have gone over well."

He couldn’t get it up for Bonquisha? That explains a lot more than Max had ever known about why the woman had broken up with the sad excuse for a man in front of him. To be perfectly honest, that’s probably more than he ever needed to know. He doesn’t need the vision of a naked David trying to stick his half-hard penis into the county’s strongest woman.

“How long have you known you liked boys?” Max asked, changing the subject. He goes back to his chair and pulls it closer, ready to try to have a real conversation about this. He doesn’t want to stop blackmailing David, it has too many perks, but just because he’s blackmailing a guy doesn’t mean he needs to be a jerk about it. “In college?”

“Max, this really isn’t appropriate,” David says. But he doesn’t tell Max he won’t talk about it because at this point he’s become used to not being able to deny Max anything if he really wants it. “I don’t think I should be talking to you about any of this. It’s not healthy. God, this entire situation is not healthy. You shouldn’t know this stuff. You’re only ten.”

“It’s not going to kill me,” Max says. He doesn’t see the big deal. It’s not like David is pulling out his cock and showing it to him. 

“You’re too young to even realize how bad this is for you,” David says. Max watches his reach up and wipe at his face. He looks so tired. “If I was a better person I’d just confess everything and quit before it just gets worse.”

“That’s stupid,” Max scoffs. “You’re not going to quit liking boys just because you’re not working here. And don’t tell anybody I said this or I’ll stab you, but you’re a good counselor.”

“I feel like I’m grooming you,” David sniffs. His voice sounds clogged as more tears wet his face. “I hate this. I hate what I am. I shouldn’t work with children, I know I shouldn’t. I swear I won’t come back next year, just let me get through the rest of this summer.”

Max doesn’t know what makes him do it, but he slides off his chair once more and walks back up to David. And he wraps his arms around waist, squeezing him. Not that quick little hug he had given him that one night in front of the pizza parlor but something longer and more heartfelt.

David shoves him away so hard that Max stumbles over his own feet, falling onto his behind with a loud thump.

“Don’t touch me,” David yells. His hands are still out in front of him, shaking. “Don’t you understand? I’m dangerous!”

Well, yeah, he’s dangerous. He just shoved Max onto the floor. Max reaches back, rubbing at what is probably a bruised tailbone. Still, he braces himself with two hands and stands up, careful just in case something was messed up more than he thought.

“You’re not dangerous, David,” he groans. “Except when you’re throwing me around. Jesus fuck, these floors are hard.”

“You don’t get it,” David moans. He’s rubbing his face, his long, thin fingers nearing reaching chin to forehead. When he speaks it comes out muffled, his palms covering his mouth. “It’s not just Harrison. Yes, he’s the one I’m the most infatuated with but, God. Do you really think I don’t react seeing you out there when we’re swimming? Do you think I don’t look at your cute little belly? Do you think I never noticed that birthmark on your lower back? Or how pretty Preston’s throat is? Or how cute Dolph is when he’s running around on his short little legs? I’m a pedophile, Max. I treat boys like meat when I’m aroused, picking out who has the best chest or stomach or throat. I objectify you all and it’s horrible.”

“So...you have jerked off to me?” Max asks, unsure exactly where David is going with this. Is he saying that Max can’t hug him because David would get hard from it? His eyes dart down to the front of the counselor’s shorts but he doesn’t see anything incriminating.

“I’m saying, I’m saying we should just go join everyone at the firepit,” David says, the passion gone. That same resigned tone, the heavy lean of his shoulders back. “Come on, I’ll help you with your s’mores.”

 

It gets worse after their meeting. David comes down with something that lingers for at least two weeks. Sniffling, red nose, a cough deep in his chest that just seems to get worse. One afternoon he disappears for a few hours and returns with a white paper bag from the pharmacy.

Gwen tells the campers he has bronchitis and to stay away from him because he’s contagious until he’s been on his medication for a few days. David is quarantined in their cabin. She puts Quartermaster in charge of bringing David food and moves a cot into the cafeteria to sleep at night.

He’s back on his feet in a few days, supposedly no longer contagious but still coughing. He moves slowly, like an old man, hunched over and shaking.

Even when he stops coughing the shaking doesn’t. 

There’s only a week left of camp when Max decides to give him back the diary. Neil advises him he should wait one more week, just so David doesn’t try to get them in trouble for the television and fridge and tablets, but Max doesn’t know if David will last another week.

But when he goes to dig up the book it is no longer there.

He finds the new rock fine. He finds the new hole fine. But the hole is empty and the rock is turned onto its side.

Now it’s Max’s turn to worry.

He goes to Neil, to ask him if he’s seen it.

“You wouldn’t tell me where it is, remember?” Neil asks.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. To keep the location only to himself.

But now the diary is missing and that means somebody else knows about David.

Max goes to Nurf first. He demands the book back and Nurf’s puzzled expression is so genuine that Max can’t help but believe him.

So he goes to each camper, one at a time, demanding it back, and each time he is met with puzzlement.

Either this camp is full of liars, or it was Gwen or Quartermaster who found it.

Seeing no choice, Max goes to David and tells him the truth.

"I'm going to be fired," the man wails. It isn't long before he's on his bed, sobbing into his pillow, and Max can do little more than sit beside him and awkward rub his beg. He feels hot through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and it's odd to see him without his vest on.

“They haven’t done anything yet,” Max reasons, trying to apologize in his own roundabout way because this  _ is  _ his fault. “Maybe nobody will bring it up. I’m sure Gwen knows you’d never do anything.”

“I’m going to jail,” David sobs, changing his mind now about exactly is going to happen to him.

Max tells him how sorry he is a dozen times. David doesn’t blame him. That just makes Max feel worse.

Four more days pass before everything goes to shit.

David shows up for work every morning but he’s in such a mess by the second day that Gwen tells him his bronchitis must be relapsing and sends him back to rest in the cabin. He still keeps showing up, still keeps trying to do his job.

Max stops by the counselor cabin frequently to check on him. But he’s never resting. He paces. Back and forth across the cabin. Back and forth and back and forth. Watching him from Gwen’s chair, Max feels nauseous and dizzy.

On the afternoon of the second day, David develops a rash that spreads along the creases of his inner arms.

By that evening he’s feverish and complains of a headache that won’t go away. Max wets a cool towel and lays it over his eyes for him.

On the morning of the third day, Max finds David throwing up in the trashcan. Max pats him on the back and says he's sorry. David's entire body tenses as he heaves into the trash can once more. There's nothing left to come up.

That evening he can’t eat. Max holds a straw to his lips and forces him to drink.

The fourth morning he doesn’t even bother to show up for activities. Max checks on him but he’s asleep. He spends the time walking around the grounds instead. He passes his tent with the television playing inside. He passes the lake where they swim, where David had first spotted Max’s birthmark. He passes the cafeteria where David had burned himself that first morning this had all started.

Max wishes he had never started this entire thing.

He passes the rock where he had buried the diary that first night.

He passes the rock where he had buried the diary that second night.

He passes the rock where he had buried the diary that second night. Again.

And it is not the same rock.

It is not the _ same  _ rock.

It looks the same. It's under the same tree. But it is several feet away. Easy enough to get confused when digging in the dead of night. Max rushes to the rush and overturns it. There's a hole there, half buried. He uses his hand to dig it out and there he finds plastic and feels something rectangular and solid.

That afternoon, book in hand, Max starts for David’s cabin. Gwen catches him as he tries to sneak away.

“Uh uh, Max,” she admonishes. “You’re the only one who hasn’t passed the CPR test this summer and I’m bound determined to get you certified before this summer is over.”

Of course, he hadn't passed the CPR test. He had skipped all the lessons and stayed inside his tent watching DVDs.

By the time he's finished, it's late, nearly dinner time, and the other campers are just sitting on the grass watching the squirrels play nearby.

Squirrels. That is how it all started, right? That stupid journal entry about the squirrels and the half-naked neighbor boy.

The other kids are talking about how excited they are to be going home in just a couple more days, but there is a sense of sadness in the air. They’ll all be parting soon and even if they come back next year it will be nine months before they see each other again. Some of them promise to e-mail and some exchange Tumblr names.

“Where’s Harrison?” Max asks, suddenly noticing the absence of a boy he had never planned on devoting so much of his brain to. But he’s been a main figure in his thoughts all summer and his absence is hard to ignore.

“He went to check on David,” Nerris says. She’s rolling some dice and muttering about squirrels and something that sounds like worgs. “He thought if he showed him some tricks it might make him feel better.”

“David?” Max asks. He meets Neil’s eyes. They look equally disturbed by that prospect.

They go to David’s cabin together. Max ahead, nearly sprinting, as Neil struggles to keep up on his scrawny legs.

But there is no use hurrying. They’re too late.

Harrison is sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, sobbing.  There are marks all over his shoulders and throat, bruises that weren't there this morning. The only speck of clothing still on his body being the dorky little top hat, tilted to one side even more than usual. Caught in a fog, Max can't help but wonder how it even managed to stay in place.

David is wearing a pair of boxers and the t-shirt he sleeps in, an oversized, ratty old camp shirt, but the boxers are crooked and hang low on one hip, as if hurriedly pulled on. He’s hugging Harrison from behind, hands desperately clutching at the boy’s shoulders and hips, somehow crying harder than Harrison, repeating the same phrase over and over again.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

His tears soak the boy’s bare back. When he sees Max standing there Harrison hurries to grab his clothes up and runs out of the cabin. Neil runs after him, yelling his name.

Max just stares at David, not knowing what to say.

There’s blood on the man’s stomach. Blood...down there. In that hair men have that Max won’t grow for a few more years. There’s blood on David’s face when he pulls his hands away his eyes to meet Max’s eyes.

He doesn’t know what to say. And it’s obvious, looking back at him, David doesn’t know either.

“I’m sorry,” they mutter in unison.

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm sorry I can't be perfect" - Perfect, Simple Plan. Who noticed the title? 
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr @alcoholic--kangaroo (two dashes, my original was purged.)


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